Must-Have Husband

sorry about what happened,” he said. “Downstairs, I mean.”
    “That wasn’t your fault.”
    “I’m glad you understand.”
    She brought her hand to her mouth to disguise a giggle. “You have to admit, it was kind of funny.”
    “Funny?”
    “Oh, Mac,” she said with a teasing lilt. “Nobody holds it against you that you did a striptease in front of the family. In fact, I think some of the older ladies kind of liked it.”
    He raised an eyebrow and met her eyes with a challenge. “Did you like it, Connie?”
    She blushed suddenly. “Well, I… The truth is, I wasn’t looking.”
    The heck she wasn’t. Mac had seen her looking, all right. Ogling was more like it. And from the look in her eyes, she’d liked what she’d seen. “I can show you again, if you’d like to make sure…?” He brought a hand to the waist of his jeans, resting it on his belt.
    She blinked hard and stepped back. “Oh no. That won’t be necessary.”
    “Well, there you two are,” Elizabeth said, striding toward them down the long hall. “Mac,” she said, addressing him. “I hope you’re feeling better. In the Oliver house, crazy things happen. Nobody will even remember by morning.”
    “Thanks. That’s very gracious of you.”
    “Anyhow.” Elizabeth clapped her hands together and gave them each a delighted look. “I have just the right thing to lighten the moment.” She turned toward Mac. “I’m sure Connie’s filled you in on the family’s traditional wedding gown?”
    “Yes, she has,” he answered honestly.
    “Then maybe it’s time you saw it.”
    “Isn’t that supposed to be bad luck before the wedding?”
    “Only when it’s on the bride,” Elizabeth said with a smile.

    Elizabeth pressed open the door to the gold room, exposing an elegant wedding gown on a mannequin positioned near the curtained window. Nearby lamps bathed the delicate fabric in their glow. The dress was intricately cut and made of hand-sewn lace. It appeared to have once been snowy white but had faded slightly over time.
    Century-old pearls swept down the train, which fanned out on the floor, shimmering in the soft light. Connie sighed in spite of herself. It really was a magical dress. Made more magical still by all of the incredible women who had worn it, including her own mother at Grandma Oliver’s request. Since she hadn’t had any daughters and Wendell Junior had been the son to marry first, her grandma has insisted Elizabeth wear the gown in order to begin the new tradition and bestow the dress with its second blessing, bearing witness to another union blessed by God.
    “Lovely, isn’t it?” Elizabeth asked Mac. “I’m sure Connie has told you it’s been in our family for years. Grandpa Oliver’s wife Melissa wore it first, and then I did, as did the wives of my husband’s two brothers. Each of the granddaughters has worn it too. That is…” She turned her eyes on her daughter. “All of them except for Connie. It’s a joy to know that her turn is coming next.”
    “Next! Next!” A parrot squawked from a cage in the corner, startling Mac, who hadn’t seen it earlier.
    “Well, hey there, buddy,” he told the big bird as it fluffed its feathers.
    “Well, hey there, buddy!” the parrot answered.
    “That’s Gilbert,” Elizabeth said with a laugh, “sentinel of the dress.”
    “Sentinel?” Mac questioned.
    “Everyone takes dress security very seriously around here,” Connie said. She hoisted a large volume off the dresser and handed it to him. “ The Book of Rules, ” she proclaimed with mock seriousness as the weight of it settled in Mac’s hands.
    The parrot squawked. “Book of Rules! Book of Rules!”
    “Wow. Are you serious?” Mac asked the women.
    “Oh yes,” Elizabeth said, holding up a finger. “My sister-in-law Mona, who is the official guardian of the dress in New York, takes great care to see there are no infractions.”
    “That’s because, in the past, there were,” Connie explained. “Aunt Kara tried to hand-wash it rather than send it through the specialized service.”
    Elizabeth shook her head. “And this was after their Charleston home was hit by the hurricane.”
    “Hurricane?” Mac asked.
    “The sleeves were horribly damaged,” Connie confessed, “so we had to have a professional restyle it without them.”
    Elizabeth sighed. “Thus we now have rules…”
    “The dress must go on over the head and never up over the hips,” Connie said, as if reciting from